Sanguinis Vinculum
by lucymonster
Summary: The war against Miraz is over, but a new force is rising that could bring Caspian's kingdom crashing down around him. Now he and the Kings and Queens of Old must face an ancient evil that threatens to destroy everything they believe in. Susan/Caspian
1. Falling From Grace

I'm afraid I've crossed over to the dark side. Yes, it's true - I'm writing Susan/Caspian. I ought to warn everybody that I'm going to well and truly earn an M rating for this. There will be blood, there will be violence, there will be sex, there will be ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. Only you can know what's appropriate for you to be reading.

This story is movieverse, and AU at that. I'm asking everyone to just bear with me and imagine the leaving scene at the end of Prince Caspian never happened.

Chapter 1. Falling From Grace

"Still wish that was your job, Pete?"

High King Peter narrowed his eyes, glaring at Edmund. The two Kings of Old were piled comfortably into the window seat in Peter's chambers, watching as an exhausted-looking King Caspian threw every last ounce of his energy and self-control into an admittedly impressive show of dignified enthusiasm as he gave the emissaries from Archenland a tour of the royal gardens.

"I've never resented Caspian's position, Ed," snapped Peter tersely, holding his shoulders stiff.

Edmund carefully hid a grin. "Well, I don't envy him now, that's for sure. Poor chap looks like he hasn't slept in weeks."

It wasn't very far off the truth. For the newly crowned King of Narnia, life had become a hectic scramble to get keep up with the onslaught of foreign ambassadors, civil disputes, trade agreements and, of course, a mountainous load of financial affairs that had been neglected or mishandled by Miraz. On top of that, Caspian was still trying to deal with the Lords and Nobles who had been loyal to his uncle, and who were apparently determined to make life as difficult for the new sovereign as possible. All in all, Caspian was finding it rather difficult to find any space in his schedule for sleep, and it was beginning to show.

In the distance, across from the expansive gardens, Peter caught sight of a black-clad figure emerging from the low stone archway leading down to the royal burial chambers. He frowned when he recognised the mourner.

"Lady Prunaprismia's out, it seems," he muttered disapprovingly.

Edmund gazed in the direction Peter was indicating, and shrugged as the hunched figure continued to trudge back towards the castle. "She really doesn't come out much, does she?" he mused.

"That's to be expected."

"I suppose so."

Peter had been one of the most forceful protestors of Caspian's widowed aunt and her child remaining in the castle. He thought it was dangerous, having the infant heir so close-by during such a precarious point in Caspian's reign, and Edmund was inclined to feel the same. But when they suggested to Caspian that she be relocated to a more secluded estate, he had reacted so strongly that it had very nearly come to blows.

"I would be no better than Miraz!" he had snarled, balling his fists as if readying himself for a fight. "You would have me remove my family from their rightful stations because I am _threatened_ by them?"

"That isn't what I meant!" Peter had retorted heatedly, but there was no swaying Caspian and, after a long argument which served no purpose but to frustrate everyone involved, the High King had allowed the issue to drop. It hadn't been brought up again since.

So Prunaprismia stayed, secluding herself and her child in an out-of-the-way guest chamber and emerging only very rarely to take her meals and visit the grave of her deceased husband. Caspian had tried hard at first to maintain friendly relations with her, taking time off whenever he could to visit her, but she received him only with greatest reluctance and her addresses were so cold and unkind that eventually he just stopped trying.

The bell rang for dinner, and Edmund jumped eagerly to his feet. "About time," he said eagerly. "I've been wasting away here."

It was Peter's turn to hide a grin. "Well, do mind your table manners. I don't think Caspian's guests are quite as used to your…enthusiasm as we are." He leapt out of range of Edmund's elbow as the Just King rolled his eyes. For a moment he debated jumping on top of his brother and wrestling him, but hunger prevailed and they made their way down to the great hall where the majority of guests were already seated. Peter took his customary seat at Caspian's right, grinning sympathetically.

"You look worn out," he muttered under his breath, smiling warmly at the ambassadors he had been introduced to earlier that day.

"You have no idea."

"It'll be over in a few days. Just bear that in mind."

Caspian nodded, his gaze wandering absently over the faces of the guests to fix involuntarily on Susan. Peter rolled his eyes – of course, despite the demands on his time, the Telmarine managed to find plenty of ways of flirting with _his sister_. He would have said something about it, but Susan seemed even more smitten than Caspian and he didn't want to risk a huge family argument over it. He supposed it wasn't any of his business, after all. He would just have to hope Telmarines were as uptight about pre-marital intimacy as they were about everything else.

At least he didn't have to put up with too much of it during dinner, he thought grimly to himself. To accommodate the new ambassadors, seating arrangements had been shuffled so that Susan was quite a distance from the King's side. Telmarines had very strict rules about who sat where at banquets, and they bore little resemblance to the etiquette of Peter's time as King.

The meal merged smoothly into a somewhat haphazard ball in honour of the visitors. Peter danced with Lucy, and then with several of the Ladies from Archenland, all the while drinking freely from the casks of sweet, rich wine brought in by the fauns for the occasion. It was understandable, in the chaos of all the dancing and drinking and intermingling, if he failed to notice the disappearance of two of his fellow monarchs.

-

It was with great difficulty that Caspian had managed to extricate himself from the gaggle of Nobles all eager to get their share of his attention – a task well worth the effort, in his mind, considering the reward he was receiving for his troubles. Not that he had had anything of _this_ sort in mind when he had slipped out of the open banquet hall and outside to the base of the West Tower. He had just wanted a break from all the noise and politics.

A pleasant shiver ran down his spine as Susan's hand caressed the back of his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. He cupped her cheek in his palm, trying to ignore the tiny but persuasive voice that was currently suggesting he push her back against the stone wall and take liberties that would end in Peter challenging him to the field of honour if he ever found out.

Pulling away for breath, he rested his forehead against hers and felt rather grateful that the shadows hid his foolish smile. Susan sank down to the grass and he followed, shifting around so that they sat side-by-side against the wall of the tower. She leaned into his shoulder, sighing comfortably.

"I do hope you're not shirking your duties," she teased, the effect ruined by her breathless tone. "Lord Peligon seemed eager to talk to you."

Caspian shook his head. "Have no fear, my lady. I take corn trade laws as seriously as their immense importance demands," he replied gravely. "It's the worst part of being King. One must occasionally lay aside one's favourite duties to make time for other pursuits."

"How very trying." She swatted his shoulder playfully.

"It is the fate Aslan has chosen for me. What can I do but obey?" He could feel her warm breath on his cheek, and her long hair fluttered lightly in the breeze and tickled his shoulder. He twisted around and pressed his lips to hers again. "You are beautiful," he murmured against her mouth.

"I've heard that one before." He felt her grin slightly.

"It is well, for otherwise I should be forced to doubt the sanity of my fellow men."

Susan did not have time to think of a suitably silly reply. An anguished cry rent the air, and Caspian was on his feet so quickly that she barely saw him move.

"What is it?" she hissed anxiously. Caspian was already backing rapidly across the lawn, neck craning to see who it was that stood at the top of the tower and the source of the outburst. His eyes widened in horror.

"Aunt!" he shouted, sounding slightly panicked. "What are you doing? Get back from the ledge!"

Susan felt panic rising in her throat as she got back far enough on the lawn that she too could see what was going on. Lady Prunaprismia was balanced precariously on the edge of the battlements, gripping the rough stone with only one hand. Susan could not discern her expression, but the hysteria in her voice was unmistakeable.

"It is over, Caspian!" she snarled, shifting her weight further forwards and swaying precariously. "You have destroyed me! I hope it plagues your conscience forever."

"Your son!" He seemed rooted to the spot, hands shaking as he stared helplessly up at the once-noble woman so many feet above him.

"Gone!" she shrieked. "I killed him. I hope you're happy with yourself, you miserable-"

She let go before she could finish the sentence. A high-pitched scream shattered the cool night air, and it took Susan a minute to realise it was coming from her own mouth. Caspian cried out, stumbling forward involuntarily, and a sickening thud shook the ground underfoot. All at once, everything was dead silent.

It only took a minute before Telmarines and Beasts alike began flooding the scene, alerted by the sounds of screaming and shouting. Susan felt like she was standing outside her own body. Someone was by her side, wrapping a hand over her eyes and pulling her back towards the hall, and she tried to struggle but couldn't make her limbs move of their own accord.

She had seen death before. She had seen murder of a most brutal and gory kind perpetrated before her very eyes.

She had _never_ seen somebody take their own life.

Too shocked to react, she allowed herself to be led away from the tower.


	2. Encounters

Thanks so much to all you beautiful reviewers, and those lovely people who added me to your favourites/alerts! It means the world to me...I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Chapter 2. Encounters

"How much did you tell them?"

"Nothing." Peter rejoined his siblings in the Throne Room wearily, his face very grim. "I just told the minstrels they were off-duty for the night. Everyone was pretty eager to retire after that."

"Good job, Peter." Susan smiled wanly, before turning again to glance at the figure on the edge of the dais, elbows resting on his knees and hands cupping his chin. A thick curtain of dark hair concealed his face. "Oh, he's really not taking this well."

"What happened…I mean, why did she do it?"

Edmund grimaced. "She's been going mad ever since Miraz died, I think," he said seriously. "They found an empty bottle in her room just now…I don't think she was quite herself tonight."

"How's the, ah…" Peter felt nauseous at the memory of what else he had found in Prunaprismia's chamber. When he heard what had happened, he had sprinted up there to find her infant son lying in his cot with a knife in his gut, blood pouring onto the mattress and dripping slowly to the floor. Lucy's cordial had stopped the bleeding, but he wasn't sure whether it would be enough to bring the child back from death's door. He was so fragile, and he had already lost so much blood…

"The child's alive," Edmund assured him, reading his thoughts. "Very weak though, and he's in a right state. Lucy's with him now."

Peter nodded mutely, not quite believing it.

"Do you think one of us should…talk to Caspian?" Edmund asked awkwardly, shooting another glance at the Telmarine.

"Oh don't, Ed, he needs some space-"

"I will," said Peter, cutting her off sharply. "Half the court's already in a panic. He needs to get up and start being a king."

He strode purposely over, and clapped a hand on Caspian's shoulder. "Come on, Caspian. We need you with us now."

Caspian lifted his head, looking up at him blankly and showing no signs of even having understood.

"I know you're in shock, but people are going to start panicking if you don't do something to reassure them. You can't grieve in public."

Caspian bit his lip. "You're right," he said tonelessly, making no move to get up.

If Peter was frustrated by Caspian's unresponsiveness then he had no chance to express it, for at that moment Lucy entered the room looking uncharacteristically pale and drawn. Caspian seemed to wake from his haze of shock and grief, leaping to his feet and crossing the room in several strides.

"How is Regalian?" he demanded, a wild note to his voice. "Is he alive? Is he okay? I don't think-"

"He's sleeping." Lucy looked far too old for her childish body as she laid a soothing hand on his arm. "The healers had to give him a draught to knock him out – he's badly frightened, but he'll survive."

Caspian took a deep breath to steady himself after his passionate outburst. "I will need to find him a nurse," he said, making a feeble effort to think practically about the situation. It didn't work. "By the lion, what is the matter with this household?" he all but wailed, shaking Lucy's arm off roughly, his forced semblance of calm rapidly disintegrating. "Are we all cursed?"

Lucy shook her head. "Caspian, I know you're-"

"I should have seen this coming," he cried bitterly. "I am a fool, and all my family seem to drop dead at the mere sight of me. I should have interfered…I cannot raise an orphan!" He knew he was making no sense, but he was too distraught to care. "If I had only been paying _attention_…"

"Caspian!" He froze dead in his tracks, Susan's voice cutting through his frantic thoughts like a knife. She was staring at him, wide-eyed and fearful, and he realised how deranged he must seem to her. Why, perhaps he really was deranged… "Caspian, it isn't your fault. Please calm down."

"I…" His hysteria evaporated as fast as it had come, replaced by a hollow, empty feeling. He needed to get away, to process what had happened alone. He couldn't stand to be in company for another minute. "Please excuse me." Abruptly, he turned on his heel and hurried from the room.

Dead silence fell over the hall. The four Pevensies exchanged stunned glances. Susan was the first to react – she could only imagine how he was feeling right now. In their occasional private meetings since coming to the castle, she had seen glimpses of Caspian's inner vulnerability that he would let nobody else see. She knew that what he needed was to be left in peace for a while to gather his thoughts and his decorum. She could give him that. She squared her shoulders, taking charge of the situation.

"We need to have the body dealt with," she said briskly. "Have two men take care of it at once – the rest of the servants are to return to their work. Lucy and I will check on Regalian. Peter and Edmund…go to bed."

Both boys stared at her indignantly, and she returned their gaze steadily. _Please don't fight me_, those eyes were saying clearly. There was no arguing with Susan once she started falling into her old Gentle Queen routine. Sighing, Peter nodded at Edmund. There was nothing more they could do, in any case.

"Don't you stay up too long either," he said sternly. "Take care of Regalian, and then get some sleep." Susan nodded, and the two brothers departed reluctantly.

--

When Caspian emerged for breakfast the next morning, he was calm and collected once more. At midday, amid a very formal and sombre ceremony, Prunaprismia was laid to rest beside Miraz' coffin in the Royal Burial Chambers. Caspian and the Pevensies were barely out of their funeral garb when they were called on to attend an important meeting, which somehow transformed into a royal hunting party with the Archenlanders. And then…life carried on as normal. The emissaries returned home, and everybody else returned to work. The only noticeable change in routine was the addition of a new very small, very young person to daily court life.

Regalian had recovered some of his strength, but he was weak and sickly and very, very fearful. He cried endlessly, flinched away from strange touches, and seemed to totally distrust everyone around him. The only person he seemed to want anything to do with was Lucy. He clung desperately to the youngest Pevensie, screaming and wailing whenever he was parted from her. She spent hours sitting with him each day, rocking him and stroking his forehead while he alternately slept, cried and dribbled on her clothes. It took her all her skills in persuasion to convince the baby to trust the wet nurse Caspian had found for him, and even though he tolerated her care, he was never happy except in Lucy's arms.

"Oh, I don't mind," she had reassured her siblings when they expressed concern over the increasing demands Regalian was making on her time. "He's a lovely baby, honestly. Why, I almost feel like he's _my_ son already."

"That's what I'm worried about," Peter had muttered under his breath. He could not help but feel alarmed at the aptitude his little sister, in most respects still a child herself, was showing for the role of motherhood.

It was fast approaching summer, and the days grew steadily longer and hotter. One balmy evening, as the setting sun bathed the castle walls in orange light, Susan found herself aimlessly wandering the empty corridors in a part of the castle she had never visited before. She was somewhere in the west wing of the castle, and there was a great hall before her, wide and long and richly carpeted. Along one wall was a row of small glass windows, positioned so that she doubted the room ever got much sun. A few last rays of light still crept through, illuminating the dust motes in the air. And along the opposite wall hung many large gilt-framed portraits.

Intrigued, she moved along the gallery, studying the faces that loomed above her. There were men, women and children, all regal and imposing in silk finery and precious jewels. They were dark-haired, with dusky olive complexions and eyes that looked almost black. Even without the name plaques beneath them, it was impossible to mistake Caspian's ancestors.

Towards the end of the gallery, Susan stopped in front of a picture that made her gasp. It was a lady, with black hair and heavy-lidded dark eyes. She was strikingly beautiful, dressed in a fine gown of red velvet, but it was not her to whom Susan's eyes were drawn. Perched upon the lady's lap, with wide brown eyes and a mop of curly hair, was a very young but unmistakeable Prince Caspian X. He could not have been more than three or four years old. Susan stared, fascinated.

Soft footsteps alerted her to the presence of another. She spun around to meet the eyes of none other than Caspian himself as he approached from the other end of the gallery. He bowed respectfully, shooting her a quizzical look.

"Queen Susan," he greeted politely. "May I enquire as to what brings you to this part of the castle tonight?"

Susan suddenly felt as though she had been caught sneaking cookies from the kitchen. She shrugged, smiling slightly. "I was bored and restless. These are lovely."

Caspian's eyes rested on the portrait she had been looking at, and he groaned slightly. "Ah, my queen, you have found me out," he said with a grin.

"You're a lot like your mother," mused Susan quietly. "There's something in the set of your jaw, and your nose."

"I do not remember her," Caspian admitted simply, moving closer to stand by her side, facing the portrait. "She died a few months after this was painted…or so I am told."

"I'm sorry," Susan breathed. He took her hand, thumb running softly across her palm.

"Don't be. It is long ago now."

She was acutely aware of the fact that she had not been this close to Caspian since the day of Prunaprismia's suicide. She met his eyes, sparkling even in the dim light, and smiled.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, teasing him, "I do not think Peter would like if he found us here. I mean, there's nobody around to interrupt us if things got too…intimate. It's really quite scandalous, when you think about it."

Caspian obviously rather liked thinking about it, for he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her, not quite as chastely as perhaps he should have. She squeaked in surprise, and then kissed him back enthusiastically. She had no idea how it happened, but she found herself quite suddenly pinned to the wall, her head leaning back against the gilt frame. She moaned slightly as his lips began trailing kisses down her jaw, sending pleasant shivers up her spine. He nipped at her neck, eliciting another moan, and she buried her fingers in his hair in wordless encouragement. Then, quite suddenly, he pulled back with a grimace.

"Bad idea," he said, and Susan thought his voice sounded huskier than usual. "I fear I have put you in a compromising situation, my queen."

"Oh…um, yes, of course," she replied, willing her pulse to slow down. She was letting herself get carried away. "Perhaps…you would care to escort me back to my chambers? It's getting dark." She hadn't noticed until now, but the last rays of sunlight had faded away and the faces of the portraits were all cloaked in shadows. Caspian offered her his arm and accompanied her out of the gallery and into the more familiar parts of the castle. It was tempting to ask him not to leave her when she reached her chamber door, but Caspian had had reluctantly extricated himself from their goodnight embrace before things got too heated.

As she combed out her hair, Susan's mind drifted and she wondered exactly when and how her friendship with Caspian had turned into something that was quite obviously more. Their playful flirting and shared conspiratorial glances had changed seamlessly into long unchaperoned walks and chaste kisses across her knuckles and, when Caspian was feeling very bold, her cheek; now it had already developed into secret trysts and fervent kisses in dark corners, and yet Susan couldn't pinpoint any period of transition. Things just _happened_ when she was with Caspian, and it all seemed so natural that she never even thought to question it.

She wondered what the next step in their relationship would be, and a tingling heat began to rise in her stomach. "Oh, stop it Susan," she told herself sternly. "It is high time you went to bed."

If Caspian, alone in his own chamber, was having rather less success suppressing similar thoughts, then he felt no need to confide in Susan about them. The Queen's honour came first.

--

The town was dark as the last shutters were drawn and people turned sleepily to their beds. A dark figure flitted stealthily through the streets outside, keeping carefully to the shadows. A curtain of dark hair cascaded down her back, unruffled by the wind. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead and she quickened her pace, seeming to glide inches above the ground. She knew what she was looking for – she could smell it.

The lads at the end of the alleyway stopped talking when she approached, snickering and nudging one another as if sharing some private joke. The foremost boy, the leader, with thick curly hair and a stocky frame, stepped forward. "Good evening, miss!" he crowed. "My name is Rinard, and I place myself most humbly at your service-"

She pounced, and the boy uttered one piercing shriek before blackness descended upon him.


	3. Damage Control

**Author's Notes:** So sorry about the lack of action in this chapter. It's a filler, I know, but there were things I really needed to lay out before I could go too much further. I hope you'll all forgive me.

Thank you a million times over to Nat, aka xphoenixrising for taking up the tedious and largely thankless task of being my beta for this story. I haven't really done her justice with this chapter, but it was an awful lot worse before she stepped in.

Chapter 3. Damage Control

"And there were no signs of a struggle? A fight, perhaps? Were they armed?"

A gangly Telmarine youth stood in the middle of Caspian's study, looking absurdly out-of-place in his immaculate soldier's uniform. The Battle of the How had brought out many new army recruits, but Caspian was beginning to think he would have to do something about the age restrictions for enlisting. The boy looked white as a sheet as he addressed his small audience, wringing his hands as though he was personally culpable for the events he had been ordered to report.

"Their swords were all sheathed, Sire. Whatever happened, there was no resistance on their part."

Caspian rested an elbow on the desk, glancing uncertainly at Doctor Cornelius, who was seated nearby listening intently. "This makes no sense," he said slowly. "Five young soldiers dead in an alleyway, with no evidence of any violence?"

"It is quite a mystery," spoke up Cornelius. "The only solution I can come up with is that they were poisoned. Did they have any enemies, Scullin?"

The young soldier, Scullin, shook his head earnestly. "None that I know of, sir. They were well liked among our regiments. I don't know that anyone would have wanted them dead."

Caspian frowned, tugging at a strand of dark hair in frustration. "I don't see what I can do about it," he said. "Have their friends and family interviewed – see if anyone knows something. Get their bodies examined by a physician. Aside from that, I think we'll just have to leave it be for now."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Scullin bowed and took his leave.

He had scarcely departed when Peter came bowling in, red-faced and still dripping with sweat from his morning's sparring practice. "So, what's going on?" he demanded, shaking his damp hair out of his face. "I heard there's been some sort of murder."

Caspian sighed, shaking his head wearily. "Five new army recruits. The butcher found them dead in an alleyway behind his shop. They bear no significant wounds, and their swords were all sheathed. And their families are clamouring for me to find and punish the culprits."

A moment of meditative silence followed, broken only by the crackling of the fire. "That doesn't add up, though," said Peter eventually.

"I know." Caspian tried to keep his tone civil. He had been hoping that Peter would have something helpful to contribute to the discussion.

Peter just gave him a sympathetic shrug. "Any ideas so far?"

"Well, Cornelius thinks they might have been poisoned."

Cornelius cleared his throat sharply. "It is only a guess, Majesty," he put in hurriedly. "I am quite as baffled as you are."

"Well, have you got any other clues?" asked Peter impatiently.

Caspian shook his head, reaching decisively for a stack of letters on the desk. "The physician's report will tell us the accuracy of your guess. Until then, let us talk no more of it." He didn't want to admit it in front of High King Peter, but Caspian was nearly at the end of his tether. A murder mystery was the last thing he needed on his plate right now.

His mood did not improve when Peter had a look at the most recent budget summary and told him, with the casual air of one commenting on the weather, that he hadn't allowed enough money to cover the shipments of wood due to arrive from Archenland (the discovery of Trees had necessitated the import of such depressingly abundant material until a suitable method of distinguishing Trees from trees could be established). When the High King eventually departed to clean himself up, Caspian decided he had earned a break. Sending Cornelius off, he poured himself a generous glass of brandy, shrugged off his doublet and set his feet impolitely on the desk. It was in this position that Susan found him when she burst, unannounced, into the study.

Her dark hair tumbled down her back in loose curls, contrasting vividly with the pale lavender of her flowing silk dress. He felt his heart leap into his throat. Surely, in the long weeks since she had first arrived, he ought to have had plenty of time to grow accustomed to her beauty. And yet somehow, he still managed to feel thoroughly tongue-tied whenever she was around.

"No no no, don't get up," she said mildly when he made to leap to his feet, chagrined at showing such discourtesy in front of a lady.

She came and stood behind his chair, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. "You look exhausted."

"I am," he admitted, leaning back into her touch and trying (with limited success) not to enjoy her proximity _too_ much. She began rubbing his shoulders, easing the tension from the knotted muscles, silver bracelets clinking softly somewhere by his ear.

Caspian would never dream of admitting it, but he enjoyed these tender moments with Susan in a way that went well beyond mere sexual tension between lovers. Since his Nurse had been sent away when he was a very small boy, Caspian had not been used to receiving any signs of affection from anyone around him. The closest thing to loving contact he had ever received from his uncle had been the occasional beating when he was caught getting into mischief. Even when he lost his virginity, it had been a thoroughly unaffectionate affair – a sort of quick and awkward early-adolescent dalliance that ended almost before either party had had time to register that it had begun. To be held and caressed so lovingly, and to be free to reciprocate, was an experience quite new to him and he didn't think he would ever tire of it.

"Come out for a stroll with me," she suggested after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Her warm breath tickled the back of his neck. "You've been cooped up in here for ages."

Caspian smiled. It _did_ sound tempting. He emptied the last drops from his cup, donned his doublet and jerkin, and offered Susan his arm.

The castle grounds were bathed in sunlight, the grass still damp with the morning dew. Susan pressed close to him, and the scent of her flowery perfume filled him with a strange desire to bury his face in her hair and inhale deeply. His earlier vexation with the world had evaporated, and he was blithely oblivious to the curious eyes of the servants and courtiers as they followed their progress down the gently sloping lawn. To most of them, Susan was still very much an object of intrigue – the barbarian queen of old, as they called her, who had attracted the interest of their youthful king by what superstitious women and impressionable court children still believed to be sorcery.

They found themselves approaching a great fountain, pouring water cheerfully from the mouth of a cherubic girl clutching a harp and wearing only the most meagre scraps of fabric for modesty. To their surprise, they found Lucy out there already. She was strolling back and forth with a small bundle clasped to her chest, and she smiled toothily when she saw them.

"Hullo! It's lovely weather, isn't it? I thought I'd bring Regalian out for a bit of fresh air. He was getting awfully restless inside."

Susan smiled, greeting the baby with a tender caress of the cheek. He looked slightly alarmed, but did not cry – he was making excellent progress under Lucy's patient and devoted care. Caspian stood back, smiling rather stiffly.

"Aren't you going to say hello to him?" asked Lucy innocently, holding the child out towards Caspian. The King eyed Regalian uncomfortably.

"I am not very good with children." His tone was polite, but a little cool.

If Lucy noticed his reluctance, she did a very good job of pretending not to. "Oh, don't worry, Caspian dearest. It isn't hard at all – you just have to keep your voice all soft. Like this, see? Hello, Regalian. Who's a good little boy, eh? That's right, it's you, isn't it darling?" She adopted a childlike, cooing tone and Regalian gurgled cheerfully in response.

Caspian's smile was fixed and hollow. "Forgive me, my Queens, but I must take my leave. There are matters of state I must discuss with Cornelius." Bowing courteously, he left before either of them could protest.

Lucy's smile faded slightly, and she glanced worriedly at Susan. "Is he quite alright? He's had nothing to do with poor Regalian since…" she trailed off, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "I just don't think it's quite wise. I mean, until he has a son of his own, this is his _heir_. He ought to be more attentive."

Regalian whimpered softly, sensing Lucy's change in mood. Susan shrugged helplessly. "I don't think he wants much to do with him," she said honestly. Lucy always had that effect on people – one couldn't help but open up to her. "He's not very fond of his family, and Regalian is just one more unwelcome tie to his ancestors."

"Not anymore," said Lucy indignantly. "Why, Regalian's part of our family now! And so is Caspian…well," she shot a cheeky sidelong glance at her sister, "I daresay he will be before too long."

Susan flushed bright red as she realised what Lucy was insinuating. "Lucy!"

"Oh, come on, Su. I think it's wonderful." She sat down by the edge of the fountain, bouncing Regalian gently on her knee. "Caspian would make such a lovely brother, and your being married to him would clear up some of the confusion as to who belongs where in court. I don't think any of the boys really know _who's_ King right now."

"How can you talk like that?" Susan was growing redder by the minute, and it occurred to her that she had never even thought to discuss her relationship with Caspian with her siblings before. She had taken it for granted that they wouldn't really notice – she supposed they hadn't been as discreet as she had thought. "He hasn't said anything to even _suggest_ that he's thinking of marrying me."

"Oh, he's thinking it," giggled Lucy. "Or are you accusing him of being an unscrupulous flirt?"

Susan scowled, scrambling to catch the last remaining threads of her dignity. "You're far too young to be thinking about such things, Lucy."

"I am not. I used to be an adult too, you know." Regalian whimpered again, pitiful and needy, and Lucy quickly lifted him to her shoulder and got up. "Oh, dear. It's time for your feed, isn't it? Let's go find Nurse, then…sorry, Su. I'll see you in a bit."

So Susan was left alone by the fountain, torn between giddiness and indignation. She couldn't help wondering, though, what it _would_ be like to marry Caspian. There was obviously something between them, but it had never occurred to her to try and put a name to it. She had never thought of spending the rest of her _life_ with him…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

--

The physician's report was in.

The three Kings – Edmund had showed up as well this time – and Cornelius all leant over the desk in Caspian's study, trying to make sense of the latest findings.

"Well, at least we know they weren't poisoned," said Caspian, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

Edmund frowned intently. "You say this isn't the only case?"

"There were new reports this morning," Cornelius put in gravely. "A farmer on the outskirts of the city woke up to find his wife dead beside him. His two young daughters also had passed away in the night."

Peter shook his head irritably. "And nobody knows what killed them, either?"

"A physician has already examined them. They had lost much blood, as with our gentlemen yesterday, and there was no poison or contaminant in their veins. Nor were there any injuries, except for…but it is distasteful to speak of."

Caspian frowned sternly. "Go on, Professor."

"Well, Sire, they bore…marks…on their necks and breasts, and other places. According to the report, they appeared to be the marks of a lover – harmless, bruising and shallow punctures. Hardly enough to account for the profuse loss of blood."

Edmund cocked a brow. "Then what does it have to do with the case at all?"

"Well," said Cornelius, "all eight victims that we know of have borne identical marks."

Edmund and Peter exchanged bewildered looks. Caspian, however, gave a snort that sounded almost mirthful.

"Is the physician suggesting," he asked, "that our victims died of debauchery?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Be serious, Caspian."

"I _am_ being serious. At least, only so serious as our esteemed coroner here."

"Suit yourself." Peter heaved a weary sigh. "The issue still stands – what are we going to do about all this?"

"If I may, Your Highness," said Cornelius. A strange look had come over his face, and his brows were furrowed. "I say we should do nothing at all – at least, not for now. It may be that these are freak accidents, but I doubt it. I wish to do a little research into the matter, and see if I can discover the more specific circumstances of the deaths. Until then, it would be best to keep the affair out of the public eye as much as possible. Peasants do talk, and we don't want to spark a panic."

Caspian nodded slowly, looking past Cornelius to look at the dancing flames in the fireplace.

"No," He said, voice more sober now. "Panic is the last thing we need." And yet he couldn't help the feeling bubbling up inside with each flicker of light.


	4. Like Something Out Of A Cheap Horror Nov

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the slow update, guys! Real life issues have been conspiring against me.

I owe a huge thank-you to ineptshieldmaid for all the time she spent discussing finicky little details with me when she should probably have been working on an essay instead. It's thanks to her that I was able to get this done at all.

I regret to inform you all that this chapter has NOT seen the magic super-beta-powers of xphoenixrising this time around, because she's a bit snowed under. So feel free to beat me up if you catch any glaringly obvious errors.

Chapter 4. Like Something Out Of A Cheap Horror Novel

Dawn was peeking shyly over the horizon, casting a faint blanket of dusky light over the dewy morning grass. A light breeze tugged gently at the hem of Susan's skirts as she padded across the lawn, savouring the prickling sensation of the crisp, cool air on her skin.

Morning had always been Susan's favourite time of day. Freshness seemed to infuse her very bones, and all lingering traces of the trials and tribulations of the previous day were washed away under the first tender caresses of the sun. When the sun rose a little higher she would become Queen Susan the Gentle, devoted leader and willing servant to the peoples of the land. But now, while politics and duties and social graces lay in heavy slumber, she was just Susan.

And how welcome was the reprieve! Life at the castle was becoming steadily more stressful. It had been over a month since the Lady Prunaprismia's suicide, and the mysterious deaths had escalated so much that the council were pushing to have the whole castle quarantined. Caspian was obstinate, appearing almost every day to deal with the townsfolk who came in droves seeking an audience with their King. Not that the need for quarantine had been ignored completely. The city had been shut off to outsiders, and Telmarines and Beasts alike had been ordered not to leave its walls lest they spread the plague throughout the rest of the country. So far that was proving more problematic than the deaths that had necessitated it. The city borders now had to be patrolled, and it was making trade very difficult.

Her feet carried her around the side of the castle, where the practice grounds were located. To her great amusement, she found that they were not deserted. Caspian, it seemed, had managed to lure Peter out for an early morning sparring match. Susan knew Peter well enough to wonder just how much brutal force this feat had required. The High King was _not_ a morning person.

Neither of them noticed her approach, intent as they were on what was panning out to be a very aggressive match. Not wanting to distract the two combatants, Susan settled herself down in the shade at the edge of the field to watch. It was good, she thought, to be familiar with the techniques of the men who led her country into battle, even if she herself could not wield a sword.

The fact that Caspian looked enchantingly attractive, his muscular form showed off to its best advantage while locked in combat, had nothing to do with it at all.

She watched him lunge and parry with effortless grace, his feet seeming to glide across the ground. It was like dancing, she thought – a beautifully aggressive ballroom dance, perfected through years upon years of training. It was also – Susan blushed crimson as the idea floated through her mind – a little bit like sex. She wondered vaguely how Peter would react if she leapt from her seat and attacked Caspian with her lips.

On further thought, perhaps that wouldn't be so wise.

"Hullo, Su."

Her train of thought was interrupted by a familiar voice behind her. Susan turned to smile at Edmund, biting back her vague irritation at the decidedly sociable turn her quiet morning alone was taking. When she saw her brother's expression, however, she leapt to her feet immediately. "Goodness, Ed, what's wrong?"

Edmund's lips were pressed together in a tight, anxious line. His skin was uncharacteristically pale, contrasting starkly with his dark hair. Judging by the disarray of his tunic, he had risen and dressed in a great hurry. His eyes, when they met hers, were carefully guarded.

"We need you all up at the castle," he said in a tone of forced calm. "There's been some sort of mishap with Cornelius…I don't really know what's going on…"

Susan stared at him uncomprehendingly. Sighing, he stepped fast her and hurried over to the fence around the field. Finally noticing that they had company, Caspian and Peter broke apart and joined him, and a few words Susan couldn't quite hear were exchanged. Then all three were rushing back to castle, with her behind struggling to keep up.

It looked as though the place had been ransacked. Books and papers had been torn from the shelves in a great hurry, and lay scattered across the floor. An inkpot on the desk had been knocked over, creating a large black puddle on the thick carpet. The bed was unmade, and the chest at its foot had been thrown wide open with clothes flung about all over the place. The curtains rippled and in the breeze drifting through the wide-open window, causing the many loose papers to flutter and rustle across the floor.

"Apparently, he always has his breakfast delivered early in the morning," Edmund was explaining. "One of the servants was bringing up his platter and, well…this is what he found." He gestured uncomfortably at the chaotic mess that had once been the Doctor's meticulously organized chamber.

Caspian had dashed into the room ahead of them all, and promptly collapsed to his knees. For a minute Susan had thought he was overcome by grief, but when she stepped up to comfort him she realised that he was poring over the assorted texts that lay open in the middle of the floor. As she and her brothers looked on, a thoughtful frown began to crease the tanned skin of his forehead. At length, he rose to his feet and turned calmly to the other anxious monarchs.

"This is not what it looks like," he said evenly. "There has been no accident."

Peter and Susan exchanged confused glances. Edmund raised an eyebrow. "What do you think happened, then? Did Cornelius just trash the place for fun?"

Caspian rolled his eyes, stepping over to the desk and kneeling beside the large stain on the carpet. "It's dry," he muttered, seemingly to himself. "He must have left last night."

"Left?" Peter's tone was cautious, sceptical. "Caspian, did you _know_ something about this?"

"No," was the maddeningly unclear answer. "He has been working in complete secrecy, it seems."

Silence fell for several minutes. Caspian picked up a hefty tome from the floor and sat down on the end of his old professor's bed, scanning through the pages and looking increasingly unhappy with what he found there. Edmund, looking rather irritated at the lapse of communication, began a cursory examination of the cluttered desk. Quite suddenly, he gave a small cry and snatched up a sheet of parchment that had been resting, altogether too conspicuously, atop a stack of books.

Caspian glanced up at him, curiosity etched across his face. "Edmund? What is it?"

For a moment, no answer was forthcoming. Edmund scrutinized the page carefully; then, with a puzzled shrug, handed it to Caspian.

"It looks like a letter," he said. "I can't make head or tail of it, though. It's in no language I can understand."

Caspian did not seem to be listening. He was poring over the letter, a small smile spreading gradually on his face. By the time he tossed the paper down, he wore an expression of thorough relief.

"My friends," he announced, "it seems we have allowed our imaginations to get the better of us. There is no immediate danger. He thinks he has discovered something that may help us understand what is plaguing the city, and has gone to research it further. He says…" He picked up the letter again, squinting at it. "He says that the nature of his task requires utter secrecy, and the greatest speed…well, that explains the mess he's left us." Caspian eyed the ink-stain distastefully. "He must have been in a frantic hurry. I cannot imagine what got him so excited."

Edmund nodded thoughtfully. He picked up the book Caspian had been leafing through so eagerly, frowning intently. It was very heavy and very old, and the pages felt dusty and brittle beneath his fingertips. The aged leather cover was embossed with gold symbols. He set it down again in mild disgust.

"This one isn't in English either," he muttered irritably. "By Jove, Caspian, can't your professor speak plainly for once, instead of carrying on with all this gibberish?"

The corners of Caspian's mouth quirked mirthfully. "This gibberish, King Edmund, is the ancient tongue of my forefathers. It has fallen rather out of fashion in the past few hundred years. Only Nobles and scholars speak it now."

"Ah," put in Peter. "Then I suppose he wrote that letter so that any servants who found it first wouldn't be able to understand it."

Caspian gave him a short nod. "That book…I have never seen anything like it. It looks like one of the books of magic he would never let me read. 'Not proper study for princes,'" he said wryly.

"What does it say?" Susan had thus far hung back, keeping her mouth closed and allowing the three more excitable Kings to investigate the situation, but her curiosity was getting the better of her.

Caspian eyed the thick wad of pages uncertainly. "Rather a lot," he said sincerely. When Susan's eyebrows began to pucker, he hastened to elaborate. "I am a little rusty in my translation. I would not want to pass on information until I am sure it is correct. If I could spend a few hours studying all these books more thoroughly, perhaps I could get a better idea of the professor's intentions." He gestured at the pile on the floor, many of which, it now became apparent, had been marked open.

"I can take care of the office for you." Peter grimaced slightly. "Gosh, I haven't had a chance to practice my administrative skills in ages."

Caspian nodded gratefully. "If you could smooth things over with the servants…make sure news of this doesn't spread…"

"Done." Putting on his most authoritative face, Peter turned and strode out of the room.

Caspian turned to the remaining two Pevensies. "Many of these volumes are also in your language," he offered. "If either of you-"

"I can help," put in Susan hastily. "I'm a fast reader."

Edmund snorted. Two sets of eyes turned to stare blankly at him.

"Look," he said reasonably. "You two aren't as subtle as you think you are, alright? And it's none of my business, but you both know you'll just distract each other. Perhaps it'd be better if I stayed to help Caspian."

Susan scowled, her cheeks glowing bright red. "Fine," she snapped, biting back the number of nasty retorts she longed to voice in reply. "I'll go and fill Lucy in, then." She stalked out of the room, gathering her skirts up with as much dignity as she could muster.

Edmund turned to face a rather chagrined Caspian. "It's not that I mind," he said, trying to sound placating. "Back in the day, Susan had plenty of suitors. I'm kind of used to it."

Caspian's expression nearly made Edmund laugh out loud.

"Oh, don't get yourself all wound up about it. You're the first she's shown this much favour to."

Looking considerably happier, Caspian settled down amid the pile of books and began to work.

The day was getting on when Caspian and the Pevensies met again to discuss what they had found. Lucy, having been informed of the development by Susan, had insisted on being included, which meant they had to wait until Regalian had been put to bed and settled for the night. Finally, though, the five monarchs had managed to escape the call of duty and were gathered comfortably around the fire in Caspian's sitting room. Caspian, for his part, had been appalled at the scandalous notion of having ladies invited into his private chambers, but necessity had overridden his deeply ingrained etiquette and they had all agreed to meet there to hear what Caspian and Edmund had unearthed in the professor's study.

"Well, it all leads to absolutely nothing," Edmund was announcing wearily. "Our most esteemed Doctor has been sitting around in his study, scaring himself witless with silly tales for children."

Caspian, standing by the fireplace with his hands behind his back, frowned slightly at Edmund. "It was not so long ago," he said rather curtly, "that you, too, were considered naught but a 'silly tale for children'."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "There is such a thing as having too much of an open mind, Caspian. Just because _we_ turned out to be real doesn't mean that you should believe everything any old nutter tells you."

"What are you talking about?" Lucy, curled up on the hearthrug like an oversized kitten, stared sternly at them.

Edmund heaved a reluctant sigh. "Those books the Doctor's been collecting. They're nothing but old wives' tales compiled by a bunch of superstitious fools. It wasn't even _proper_ black magic."

Peter, stretched out in a large armchair with his boots on the low coffee table, shot his brother a suspicious look. "How do you know what _proper _black magic looks like?"

"I've seen it in action," Edmund reminded him dryly. "This stuff was all about summoning spirits that never existed, and taking baths in concoctions of frog's liver under the light of the full moon…"

Caspian gave a loud huff. "I am not saying that it is all true. I just do not believe that professor Cornelius would study it without good reason."

"That's all very well," said Peter, "but what good is it to us if we don't know what his reasons are?"

"But we do know. At least, he has made it clear enough where his focus lies." Despite Caspian's confident tone, his face betrayed a nervous scepticism that suggested he didn't trust his professor's judgements as much as he wished the others to believe.

"Go on." Perched in the deep window seat, Susan stared pensively out at the shadowy grounds as she listened to the conversation unfold.

"Well…" Caspian cleared his throat. "There was a scrap of paper folded inside one of the books. It seems he took references for all the pages that served his purpose. From looking up each one, it has become clear to me that the passages he found most useful were those concerning the, er, undead."

Susan's head whipped around so fast that she nearly lost her balance and toppled from the window seat. "The undead? You mean vampires?" Her eyes grew very wide. "But…vampires don't exist in Narnia…do they?"

Edmund raised his eyes to the heavens. "Not you as well, Su. Goodness, why so pale? There never were any vampires in Narnia! I'm telling you, this is all a load of nonsense."

"Su, you're overreacting," said Peter gently. "We're just hypothesising."

Susan took a shaky breath. "Sorry," she mumbled, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "I've just…read rather a lot about vampires, you know."

Her three siblings raised their eyebrows in unison. Caspian shuffled closer to the fire, looking politely confused.

"Is _that_ what you were doing when you used to lock yourself away for hours in your bedroom?" asked Edmund incredulously. "Reading penny dreadfuls?"

"Not penny dreadfuls!" Susan's face reddened still more. "They were Gothic romances, if you must know. I only hid them because I knew mother wouldn't approve."

"Look," said Peter quickly, before Edmund could utter anything derisive. "There's no point in us sitting around and arguing about whether or not vampires exist. That's obviously what Cornelius is off doing." He sat up straighter in his chair, adopting the commanding air that always seemed to make it clear just _why_ he had been crowned High King Peter the Magnificent. "I know we're all dying of curiosity right now, but for the time being there's nothing to do but carry on as normal until the Doctor gets back. We're jumping to conclusions, in any case. We don't even have any real evidence."

"He's right," chipped in Lucy unhappily. "We'll just have to trust that Doctor Cornelius knows what he's doing, I suppose."

"Who are you? How did you get in? I will call father-"

"You will do no such thing." The voice was low, seductive; repulsive and yet deliciously alluring at the same time.

The vampire smiled – a dark, humourless smile infused with hatred and passion and lust. She crawled, graceful and feline, up the bed, her cold hands prying the covers away. The Telmarine girl whimpered as the thin white nightgown was ripped from her body. Naked and trembling, she felt as if her throat had closed in on itself – she could not speak, could not cry out. Those hands, so cold and dry and weightless, brushed teasingly over her skin, and a spell was stealing over her as the whole world seemed to evaporate around her and there was _nothing_, nothing but this strange and beautiful woman with her increasingly bold caresses. She stopped fighting the terror, and as it washed over her she found that it had turned into…something else. Now the stranger was kissing her, and such heat surely could not come from someone so _cold_…and a hand was fluttering up her leg, stealing between her thighs, and that was it. Her back arched helplessly, and a wild euphoria stole over her as she felt a sharp, piercing pain just below her jaw.

And all was darkness.

In a large, plush bed in her empty guest chamber, Susan woke up screaming.


End file.
